


Top of the World

by Daegaer



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: 11th Century, Anthropomorphic Personifications, Byzantine Empire, Gen, International Relations, Varangian guard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-15
Updated: 2010-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Empires do not have friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top of the World

Byzantium stood on the walls of his city, leaning against the warm stone. He rested his chin on his hand, gazing out at the sunlight on the Bosphorus without seeing the beauty of the day. His mind was taken up with the growth of his territories, and the way, if he but lifted his hand idly, his shadow fell from Italy to Kiev. _Italy_ , he thought. What to do with that foul-mouthed child that thought himself the heir of Rome? It was ridiculous. Byzantium _was_ Rome, and had the enemies to prove it. He fought barbarians on his borders, he brought stability and order, he was magnificent in victory. He smiled at the memory of Kiev, tears running down her face as she was baptised. Tears of joy, she had assured him, in between gulping promises that she would bring the gospel to her younger sister and brother. Bulgaria's tears had been of anger and pain, but that didn't matter. He'd calmed down considerably once he'd been captured and put to work as Byzantium's groom. If there was anything missing, Byzantium thought, it was someone with whom to talk. Empires didn't have _friends_ \- the other Rome had been too jovial, too ready to talk to his subordinates, and they grew _in_ subordinate, and killed him. Byzantium was not about to let that happen to him.

"'m here," a gruff voice said behind him.

Byzantium nodded. Empires had no friends, but rather enemies and jealous neighbours. Empires could, however, import something almost as good as friends, loyal foreigners who did not get caught up in local intrigues and who would listen to one speak as long as they were paid. He looked to the side and nodded again. The Varangian Guard wasn't a good conversationalist, but he kept his word, and he had sworn to protect Byzantium.

"It's a good day," he said.

"That so?" the Varangian Guard muttered, glaring over the city walls as if they had caused him personal offence. He meant nothing by it, Byzantium had come to accept, it was merely how his features arranged themselves.

Byzantium looked at the way the sun had lightened his already pale hair even further, and how odd his blue eyes were. He could never be anything other than a foreigner, and would always derive his standing from his position. It was enough. "It is a good day," he said. "We have vanquished Bulgaria. His pretensions are no more."

"Huh," the Varangian Guard said, shielding his eyes as he looked down at Byzantium. "Good fight'r, Bulgaria." He said no more, exhausted, Byzantium thought in amusement, at such a lengthy piece of military analysis.

"Not as good as me. What insolence, to think himself in any way as the heir to Rome! _I_ am Rome."

"If y'say so."

Byzantium was glad they stood alone on the walls, where no one could hear him extend such latitude to one who was - if not conquered territory - as much a servant as Bulgaria and Croatia. "I _am_ Rome. The whole world knows that, even you, up in the miserable wastes of eternal snow."

The Varangian Guard raised his eyebrows. "Call y' _Greece_ up there," he said, a thread of dark humour in his voice.

"I am more than _Greece_ ," Byzantium said, turning to look out over the Bosphorus once more. "What do you know? You're not even a Nation, just those who have fled from one, looking for a better life." He kept his back turned, fearing no attack. The Varangian Guard did not have a Nation's pride.

"Import'nt t'know what y'are," the Varangian Guard said after a while, and Byzantium heard the echoes of a gale in his cold voice. "I know who I am."

"I'll call for you if I need you," Byzantium said, and out of the corner of his eye watched the Varangian Guard step back. He didn't bow, of course, he never did, but Byzantium could forgive that. He was a barbarian still - a loyal one, but a barbarian nonetheless. He listened to the footsteps recede, and knew that even though dismissed, the Varangian Guard would stay close enough to keep him safe. Such loyalty was better than friendship any day. Byzantium stretched his hand across his territories once more, and revelled in the magnificent weight of empire.

* * * * * * * * * *

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  The [Varangian Guard](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Varangian_guard) was a Scandanavian unit employed as personal bodyguards to the Byzantine emperor [Basil II](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basil_II), whose victories over Bulgaria in 1014 earned him the epithet of "Basil the Bulgar-slayer". The Varangians were sent to Basil by [Vladimir the Great of Kiev](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_I,_Prince_of_Kiev) in 988, after his conversion to Christianity and his marriage to Basil's sister, [Anna](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Family_life_and_children_of_Vladimir_I#Anna_Porphyrogeneta).


End file.
